Authors: L. M. Roth
Cort stood in
the antechamber, waiting to be admitted to the Emperor’s presence. He shivered
inwardly at the cold and unwelcoming aura that the Palace retained, the one he
remembered from the days when Aurora sat on the throne and ruled as a tyrant
over the Empire. Her lovely face was one that still visited his nightmares,
recalling the way she had killed Valerius Maximus with the knife that had been
intended for his son. Had Valerius not jumped between them it would have been
Marcus lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Cort had not been in the Palace
since, and hoped he never had to visit it again.
At last a
Guard came to conduct him to Iacomus. Cort was amazed that he had consented to
see him at all. But perhaps the message he had sent had been too intriguing to
brush aside…
“I have news
for you,” the message had stated, “news that will change your life if you will
but receive it. Shall I come personally and deliver it to you?”
Would anyone,
he thought, be able to resist solving the mystery of such a message?
It was his
first glimpse of the Emperor, and Cort was amazed at how tall the man was, with
a regal bearing that, truth to tell, excelled that of Emperor Urbanus although
he had been of noble blood. This usurper hailed from an aristocratic family in
Lycenium it was rumored, but it was also rumored that they had disowned him for
his vices long ago.
Was it little
wonder then that the man turned out so cruel? Cort wondered as he studied the
man covertly from the corner of his eyes.
Iacomus
studied Cort with a mixture of amazement and amusement that left him speechless.
It was evident to Cort that the Emperor was mystified that a rustic such as
himself had been able to persuade the mighty monarch to an interview with a
complete stranger. Most unsettling to Cort was the knowledge that he could not
tell which was greater: the Emperor’s amazement or amusement.
At last the
Emperor spoke.
“You wished to
speak to me? Who are you? From whence do you come?
Cort bowed
deeply before replying to the questions put to him.
“Yes, I do
wish to speak to you. My name is Cort Adalbart. I am from Eirinia. And you hold
my father prisoner.”
Iacomus stared
at him blankly. Then comprehension dawned on his face and his eyes lit up.
“Ah! You are
one of those Alexandrians, are you? And I have your father prisoner. Yes, you
are one of those Alexandrians, as is he.”
He appeared to
be taking his measure of Cort, weighing his motives and attempting to divine
the intentions of his heart. Cort found himself growing uncomfortable under the
examination, and felt his palms grow sweaty. He decided it was time to reveal
his purpose in requesting an audience.
“Yes, it is
true. I am an Alexandrian, and so is he. He did not mean any harm in entering
Valerium, and he is wrongfully imprisoned. I have news to tell you, but only
after you agree to permit me to see my father, here in your presence, to assure
myself that he is well and in good health.”
Iacomus
snickered mockingly. He turned his attention to another man who stood just
behind his throne, a man that Cort had not noticed until now.
“He is quite
amusing; do you not think so, Decimus?”
Decimus! This
must be Decimus Hadrianus that Marcus had told him of, the man who had been his
rival for Tullia and had killed Felix so long ago…
Cort
restrained himself from flaring up with anger. He had loved Felix like a
brother, and rage could still engulf him at the sight of the man who had
snuffed out his life as heedlessly as if he had been but an insect beneath his
sandal.
Decimus
glanced at Cort with obvious indifference. The stranger did not stir either his
curiosity or excite his amusement. He was but another provincial visiting the
capital city, and therefore beneath his notice.
Decimus
shrugged his shoulders, but discreetly answered the Emperor in a deferential
tone of voice.
“If you say
so, Your Grace. But I am a poor man to ask, as I lack humor and fail to get the
point of most jokes.”
Iacomus
laughed at this sally in appreciation. He turned his attention back to Cort,
his eyes alight with interest. If nothing else, Cort was unusual enough to
entertain him, and perhaps that might succeed in winning his interest long
enough to hear him out.
“So, you wish
to see your father, eh? Well, I do not think there is any harm in that. And
perhaps it will serve to remind your father that he has a family who will miss
him dearly if he does not comply with his Emperor’s wishes!”
This last
statement made Cort turn cold all over. He did not know which chilled him more:
the words themselves or the utter indifference in which Iacomus could pronounce
doom on a man…
Dag stood
before them. He had walked into the room fixing his eyes on a point on the wall
just behind Decimus, and was thus unaware of Cort’s presence. The Emperor bade
him to come closer, and he obeyed, yet refused to look directly at Iacomus.
“Ah, still the
strong and silent sufferer, are we? If only you saw things my way I might have
use for you in my Empire! I am certain that I could use a big strong savage
such as you to help keep the peace among the populace. One look at you and they
would hasten to obey my wishes with no argument or suffer the consequences!
However, I brought up from your dungeon because you have a visitor. Did you not
notice when you entered?”
Dag still
refused to look at him, and it was only Cort’s cry that finally succeeded in
capturing his attention.
“Father!” Cort
exclaimed.
Dag’s head
whipped around in his son’s direction, and sudden tears sprang to his eyes. His
face was split nearly in two by the huge grin that adorned it.
“My son!” he
said in a tone both joyful and accusing. “What are you doing here? It is not
safe!”
“Father, I
promised I would come back for you; and I have. And that is all that matters,”
Cort said, with such love shining in his eyes that they dimmed the radiance of
his smile.
A small sound
came from the direction of Decimus, quickly stifled. He cleared his throat
suddenly, and shook his head. Iacomus turned to stare at him.
“Nothing, Your
Grace,” he stammered with lowered gaze, “just a sudden tickle in my throat;
nothing at all.”
The Emperor
gave him a long measuring look; Decimus stared him down and Iacomus was the
first to drop his eyes.
He turned back
to Cort.
“Well, what is
this news that you promised to tell me. I am waiting. And it had better be
worth granting you this audience!”
Cort turned
from Dag and took a step forward.
“It is this,
Your Grace: I came to tell you of One who loves you, One who has given
everything that you may have life, and have it more abundantly, if you will
only open your heart to Him.”
The response
was not what Cort had hoped. The Emperor stared at him as though he were a
member of a strange species, the like of which he had never been exposed to,
and was not certain that he wished to acquaint himself with.
“Ah,” he
murmured. “Ah, indeed. Well, that is..”
Suddenly
Iacomus erupted in howls of laughter. It began as a snicker, then the snicker
became a giggle, the giggle became a chortle, the chortle became a laugh, and
the laugh became a guffaw. Iacomus snickered and giggled and chortled and
laughed and guffawed until his face was so red it deepened to purple. He bent
over double, helpless to stop his laughter, pounding his hand on the royal
knee, and his feet flew up to meet his face. So violently did he laugh that he
slid from his throne and lay still on the floor.
So still was
he that the air rang with the silence after the storm of laughter, a deafening
silence that seemed to permeate every fiber of Cort’s being. And only then was
he afraid…
It was Decimus
who hastened to the Emperor’s side and examined him. It was Decimus who
pronounced it.
“Iacomus is
dead; the Emperor is dead!”
Dag and Cort
exchanged identical looks of awe and fear, and it was uncertain which was
greater. They stared at one another, and suddenly Dag nodded his head.
He strode
forward to where Decimus stood shocked and frightened, standing guard over the
Emperor’s body.
“If I may,” he
began.
Decimus turned
a bewildered gaze on him.
“What?” he
said in a monotone that was drained of all expression or feeling. “What do you
want?”
Dag swallowed
hard and proceeded.
“I may be of
some service to the Emperor,” he answered.
Decimus
responded to this effrontery with a slight laugh.
“I think you
can see that the Emperor is beyond earthly service,” he said, as irony dripped
from his voice.
The look he
cast on Dag was withering in its scorn. But Dag was not to be deterred.
“Please, let
me help him.”
Decimus flung
out his hands from his sides in a gesture of futility, but allowed Dag to
approach Iacomus. Cort waited with apprehension, hardly daring to breathe. He
had an idea of what Dag proposed, and knew it had happened before, but now?
Dag knelt over
the body of Iacomus. He took up one of his cold lifeless hands, and held it to
his own heart. He bowed his head and was silent; but only for a moment.
“Please,
Dominio, please grant life to this one, that he may know that Cort’s words were
true, that You are the One who gives life abundantly.”
No one spoke
or moved; indeed, no one would have known what to say.
They looked at
Iacomus, so white, so still on the floor. And they stared at Iacomus.
His eyelids
flickered. A shallow breath escaped his lips. The hand held by Dag twitched,
and suddenly a moan emanated from him. He opened his eyes and stared into those
of Dag.
Iacomus gasped
and sat up abruptly, and looked around the room in bewilderment. Then he
motioned for Dag to help him stand.
Dag obliged
and the Emperor stood on his feet, swaying uncertainly. Dag put an arm around
him and Iacomus motioned for the throne. Dag led him to it and placed him on
it. Behind the throne Decimus Hadrianus observed these proceedings with a face
the color of chalk and a mouth that was slightly ajar. His eyes bulged as he
looked at Dag.
“What
happened?” he gasped at last. “He was dead; I
know
he was dead! There
was no pulse, not even one beat from his heart!”
Dag nodded his
head.
“Yah,” he
agreed. “He was dead. And Dominio restored him to life.”
He stated this
as casually as if stating that it was about to rain. Cort was thrilled at the
miracle he had just witnessed, but realized that neither Decimus nor the man
who had received it had the slightest comprehension of what had just happened.
But in this
assumption he was wrong.
“It is a
miracle!” Iacomus exclaimed. “I have received a miracle!”
He riveted his
attention on Cort.
“Tell me again
what you said earlier.”
A decree came
from the Imperial Palace the next day. His Royal Grace, Emperor Iacomus,
declared that from this day on all of the Valeriun Empire would worship the God
Dominio, and His Son Alexandros. Any who did not do so would be tried as a
heretic and put to death.
In the royal
throne room Decimus Hadrianus watched as the Emperor cradled the Sword Logos on
his knee. The Emperor no longer wished to have it merely to withhold it from
the Alexandrians. No, it was now far more precious than that to him.
For Logos must
be obeyed, Iacomus said. He learned that much in the days when he had
infiltrated the meetings of the Alexandrians. It was a two-edged sword, and to
disobey would bring about the destruction of the one who received a word and
did not heed it. So should it be throughout the Empire, Iacomus pronounced.
And on hearing
these words, even Decimus Hadrianus, godless man that he was, knew that for the
Valeriun Empire, its darkest hour had just begun.
Quest For the
Kingdom
Part VII
A New Kingdom
Rises
By L. M. Roth
Copyright 2013
© L. M. Roth
All Rights
Reserved
Kyrene was
left behind to stand guard in Leith. She deemed that both Dirk and Maelys were
far too young to stand up to the evil that now simmered beneath the surface in
general, and she did not like the feeling of an unnamed threat that seemed to
stalk the Adalbart family in particular.
And that was
when she started training Dirk, Maelys, and Lucius how to be spiritual
warriors. She omitted Nolwenn, sensing a duplicity as well as rebellion in the
young girl. As loyalty was an inviolable requirement in any military troop, she
could not afford to permit the flighty girl access to any of their confidential
information.
She took them
deep into the woods behind the village, even to the places where the Eirini
were warned not to go. At first, Maelys had been nervous, and glanced around
her as if expecting to see some unspeakable horror pop out at her. But Kyrene
merely laughed off her fear.
“You must be
strong and courageous,” she told the young woman. “For greater is He that is in
you, than he who is in the world. Remember that: you have received of the
Spirit of Dominio, and there is no power that can stand against Him. But you
must be pure of heart, or you will not be able to stand before your foe. I do
not say that he will defeat you; he may, or he may not. But your own heart will
quake in fear and you shall run and not stand your ground.
“And never
forget that it is the Astra who are behind their enmity with you, as they
inspire them to hate you, wrong you, and cheat you at every turn. But Dominio
has already judged the Astra, and they are diminished in their power.
“The Tuadan,
as your people call them, are nothing more than the Astra whom Dominio banished
to earth. Even in your own legends their power is diminished as they dwell in
the hills that men trod underfoot, and in the trees that men chop down. It is
true that you can not fight them in your own strength, but it is the Spirit in
you that will give you the victory if battle is engaged.
“Remember to
examine yourself; be sure you are in right relationship with Dominio Himself.
Love your enemies and do good to those who hate you. Do not return evil for
evil. Be kind and forgive, praying for those who war against you, for remember
it is not flesh and blood that is your true enemy. They are only inspired to hate
you by the Astra, who
are
your true enemy.
“And let me
share with you what my mentor taught my friends and me: you will never defeat
the kingdom of darkness unless you conquer the chambers of your own heart.”